


A Flair for Fragmented Facts

by Aubrin Kohl (milknhoney)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Q, ftm Q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milknhoney/pseuds/Aubrin%20Kohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of loosely related stories relating to Bondlock, asexual 00Q, and transboy Q.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transgressions

**Author's Note:**

> I have a very great fondness for Trans!Q, and I also have a tendency to create animosity between Mycroft and Q when writing Bondlock.

The man was standing in the flat, as Sherlock and John entered to get Sherlock’s things. Mrs. Hudson made an alarmed noise.

                “How did you get in here?” She demanded shrilly.

                “I picked the lock,” The man responded, like it was obvious.

                “Go downstairs, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said softly.

                “Should I send up one of your bodyguards?” She asked.

                “No need, this is my younger brother, Quain,” Sherlock said. Mrs. Hudson obeyed his suggestion.

                “You have another brother?” John groaned. The young man –and he couldn’t be over 20, he still had acne!- smirked.

                “Why didn’t I meet you at Christmas?” John demanded. Sherlock winced, and the kid flinched.

                “My parents and I haven’t spoken in years,” He answered softly.

                “So you have the Holmes stubbornness?” John chuckled.

                “Disownment was a pretty obviously their attempt at burning bridges,” The young man said. He passed a hand in front of his face tiredly. “As you know, I was going to allow you to be exiled. But it’s not as though Mycroft and I have never killed anyone, so it’s simply preposterous that I would allow him to… utilize you as though murder is something… condemnable to us,” The man spoke primly, and John found his easy dismissal of human life surprising. In fact, he began to cough violently.

                “So what is your offer?” Sherlock asked, ignoring John.

                “I can have Magnusson’s death recorded as natural, and all charges dropped, easily,” Quain’s head tilted slightly to the left.

                “For what price?” Sherlock asked.

                “I would do it for the satisfaction of seeing Mycroft’s face,” Quain smirked.

                “I don’t like debts,” Sherlock informed him. Quain’s smirk dropped into a slight frown. 

                “You’re all the family I have left, Sherlock; it’s not something requiring debt. It’s a gift,” Quain’s voice was quieter.  Sherlock nodded sharply. Quain took out a phone, and moments later, hacked into Sherlock’s laptop. The cameras of the room where Mycroft was still arranging Sherlock’s banishment was easily –or so it seemed- accessed, and the look on Mycroft’s face was one of horror and anger.

                “You best not stick around for him coming here,” Sherlock urged. Quain rolled his eyes.

                “James is outside,” Quain informed Sherlock who winced.

                “I don’t think even a double-oh could stop Mycroft when he’s angry,” Sherlock murmured. Quain smiled softly.

                “I appreciate the sentiment, but I can hardly leave you to deal with him alone,” Quain raised one eyebrow. Sherlock frowned.  Moments later both James and Mary entered the room. Quain smiled slightly at both of them. There was the sharp ‘tap’ along with heavy footsteps indicating Mycroft was coming up the stairs. Quain’s form shuddered slightly before straightening and facing the doorway expectantly. Mycroft’s face was angrier than John had ever seen it.

                “Quintessa,” Mycroft sneered. Quain’s face darkened.

                “That is not my name,” Quain hissed. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

                “I was there when they signed your birth certificate,” Mycroft’s eyebrows rose. Quain glowered.

                “If you have nothing of importance to say, Mycroft, I will be going,” Quain said, reaching for his coat.

                “You will undo any changes you have made in my government,” Mycroft said. Quain laughed, looking at Mycroft incredulously.

                “Your government?” Quain looked amused. “Quite the complex you’ve got, Mycroft. But make no mistake; you do not outrank me,” Quain said. Mycroft scoffed.

                “Of course I do,” Mycroft said.

                “Hardly, and you would do well to remember it,” Quain’s voice was quiet, but surprisingly dangerous. Quain’s mobile rang. He slipped it from his pocket.

                “Q,” He greeted. “Sure, M. I’ll be back shortly,” Quain’s voice was reasonably pleasant.  He ended the call, and smiled tightly at Mycroft.

                “It would seem I’m required at work,” Quain informed Mycroft. “Might I recommend returning to your armchair and avoiding worrying about things you can’t control?” Quain asked.  He looked to Sherlock. He nodded slightly. Sherlock smiled. Quain exited the flat, James’ arm around his waist. Mycroft looked murderous. He merely stalked from the flat.

               


	2. Courtship Commences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q tells James somethings James will need to know if he's serious about dating Q. James has an earth-shattering revelation about human nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a lot of creative liberty with the character of James Bond. But, I wanna live in a reasonably happy world and this is the only way it's gonna happen.

When he walked towards the train station, Q found himself with a shadow. He paused, and stared at James, who nearly ran into him, not having anticipated the stop.

                “Can I help you, Bond?” Q asked. James rubbed the back of his neck, and Q realized the double-oh was nervous.

                “Do you have plans tonight?” James asked. Q paused.

                “What do you have in mind?” Q raised an eyebrow.

                “Dinner,” James said. Q hesitated, trying to find words that weren’t too blunt or rude.

                “What are your intentions?” was the best he could come up with.

                “Dinner, honestly,” James smiled. “Possible dinner another time, too,” James said. Q frowned.

                “You’re asking to date me?” Q asked. James nodded. Q bit his lip.

                “I’ll agree to dinner, but we’re going to have to talk about some things,” Q said. James grinned.

                “Alright,” James agreed, leading Q to his car.

 

Dinner was fabulous, if extravagant, which Q had expected. He had requested not talking in the restaurant, which James obliged him. That’s how they found themselves seated along the Thames, the moon reflecting on the water.

Q was undeniably nervous. Lord knew that if James reacted truly poorly, every single employee of MI-6 would know information that was strictly need-to-know. James was waiting surprisingly patiently.

                “Whatever has you so nervous, I guarantee you can tell me,” James smiled. Q swallowed, his brain noting that ‘ _yep, both parasympathetic and sympathetic nerves in my throat are activated_ ’.

                 “Quain, seriously, whatever it is, I’ll take it to my grave,” James’ voice startled Q, having momentarily forgotten what his name was, and that James knew it.

                “I picked that name,” Q said, voice much steadier than he had expected. “My birth name was Quintessa,” Q said. James’ eyes widened slightly and then he just nodded.

                “Okay,” James said. “Honestly, I don’t care. So you were assigned female at birth, I honestly don’t care about gender, assigned or identity,” James said. Q felt the horrifying prickling of tears at his eyes. James merely wiped them away with his thumb.

                “It’s okay,” he murmured when Q tried to pull away.

                “Sorry, this is stupid, I don’t know why I’m crying,” Q’s voice wobbled and cracked. James merely pulled him into a hug.

                “You were expecting a negative reaction,” James observed softly. Q nodded.  “Tell me why?” James asked softly.

                “My parents disowned me, my oldest brother... well, he was a prat,” Q half laughed, feeling relief from deep in his chest. After a moment, he pulled away from James.

                “I’m afraid I’ve got more to say,” Q murmured. James merely nodded. “I’m asexual,” Q said. James looked more than confused. “I don’t... have an interest in sex.” Q added. “I’m very open to romantic relationships, but,” he shrugged.

                “That’s a thing?” James asked. His jaw was slightly open. Q nodded, hopes falling rapidly. “I...” James looked like his whole world was crumbling.

                “I understand if that’s a deal breaker,” Q said.

                “No,” James said hastily. “It’s just,” he started, clearly trying to pull his thoughts together. “I thought everyone was that way,” James said. Q stared at James, not sure he had heard James Bond, Womanizer, correctly.  James flushed. “It just... sex is useful, for manipulating people, and reproducing but I just... I assumed it was sort of one of those things that if it wasn’t for expressly attempting to reproduce or to get to a means it was just not done,” James said. Q stared at him; half believing it was a joke, waiting for James to burst into laughter. James stared back at him, obviously embarrassed.

                “Really?” Q asked. James looked slightly hurt. “Really.” Q affirmed for him, and then Q grinned.

                “So may I court you?” James asked, face solemn, inquiry serious, not an irritated statement.

                “Yes,” Q smiled. James stood, extending his hand, and Q took it.


End file.
